


flickered in my mind for only you

by DarkBeauty_890



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, isak character study, it says AU bu think of it more as canon with the use of soulmarks, oh buddy this was a monster, there's a hint of jonas/eva because i still love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBeauty_890/pseuds/DarkBeauty_890
Summary: But even the lonely nights hearing his mom cry for his dad couldn’t stop Isak from tracing the words (looped, like maybe his soul mate was an artist or a writer) etched permanently onto his skin. He sat huddled under the covers for hours, flashlight illuminating the darkened space, allowing Isak to wonder who they would be.His soulmate.(Or the Soulmate AU that nobody asked for)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ringoflamingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringoflamingo/gifts).



> Heyyyy guys. It's me again! This has been the work of three days of back aches, thesaurus runs and a hell of a lot of complaining to my Internet friends. 
> 
> It started out as a couple of prompts in my inbox. I have never written AUs of any kind before, so it sort of morphed into a dare for myself. To see if I could do it- if that makes sense.
> 
> So basically, it's supposed to follow as much as it can along the storyline for the season- just with a bit more background on Isak and the added bonus of soulmarks and how that sort of affects plot points in the series.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. Now Read on, little babies!

There isn’t a time in his life that Isak can’t remember having his soul mark.

His mother, when she was still lucid enough to hold a conversation, used to tell him that he was born with the markings- right there on the inner meat of his bicep. As a baby, it wasn’t even legible; just a darkened hint of scrawled words that _then_ added up to nothing but _one day_ would become everything. His mother would tell him that it meant he was born with someone already out there searching for him, knowing in their heart of hearts that Isak was waiting.

_It will be a beautiful girl,_ she used to say with Isak on her lap and her fingers tangled amongst his curls, _with long lashes and big eyes and she will be your personal gift from God._

They were all pretty words back then.

But this is now. And _now_ his mother lives in between madness and reality; between a lonely apartment across town and a mental institution. Not even her own soul marks, a shy _can I sit here with you?,_ could save her from that. Nor could her soulmate husband who folded under the pressure of his mother’s meltdowns.

But even the lonely nights hearing his mom cry for his dad couldn’t stop Isak from tracing the words (looped, like maybe his soul mate was an _artist_ or a _writer_ ) etched permanently onto his skin. He sat huddled under the covers for hours, flashlight illuminating the darkened space, allowing Isak to wonder who they would be. _His soulmate_.

But while his friends on the school yard, always so eager to show off their words to one another, would fantasize long hair and soft skin- Isak would dream up someone bigger than him and strong enough to protect him from the world. This faceless, nameless figure would soothe his hurt while his mother slowly spiraled; brush his hair back and love him the way that deep inside, Isak already loved his soulmate.

The problem was: Isak never imagined his soulmate as a girl. He didn’t want lovely long hair and sweet pink cheeks. It wasn’t natural to him; _it didn’t fit._

He didn’t understand it at first- words like gay and fag and fairy, or any of the other colorful insults that could be applied to someone like him. Someone who’s so full of love- but not for the people who are viewed as right for him.

He’d understand it eventually though and by that time, the words have struck deep down in his very core, twisting and burning his insides until suddenly he’s conjuring up the image of blonde hair and big boobs and all the attributes his friends go _on and on_ about and tries to force the image to intermingle with his nameless, faceless _someone_.

It doesn’t work, of course. But that’s okay.

Isak is young and he’s always been good at pretending.

 

* * *

 

 

Isak meets Jonas three weeks after his 8th birthday.

He is a tiny little thing; skin and bones and a gap between his teeth and knobby knees and-

Jonas doesn’t see that. He has a ball in his hand and a friendly expression on his face and the first words that come out of his mouth are, “I have a soccer ball, do you want to play?”

“Yeah,” Isak says, grin breaking through the little frown that seemed almost commonplace now. “Yeah. I want to play.”

“Awesome.”

And that’s that.

 

* * *

 

 

Jonas becomes his constant in the way he’d dreamt of without ever really knowing he’d dreamt it. He was there after school when neither boy quite wanted to go home to face their own realities; he was there in the back of class cracking jokes and writing notes and causing general mayhem; he was on the other side of a text message when Isak was huddled in his room, music blasting loudly to tune out the sound of his mom screaming hymns and bible verses.

They were Jonas and Isak; Isak and Jonas. The terrible twosome that were insufferable together and miserable when apart.

“What’s your soul mark?” Jonas asks, when they’re both fourteen and sitting on the lunch tables watching girls pass by.

Isak lifts his head up, considering. He knows, logically has always known, that Jonas couldn’t possibly be his soulmate. He remembers in vivid detail everything about the first moment they met and though he hadn’t felt the slightest twinge when they were both children, now it hurts to think that no matter what happens, Jonas will never-

Well. Not like Isak.

So he swallows down a grimace and rolls up the length of his sleeve, “Do you really not know?”

“Nah man,” Jonas throws a cracker up in the air, swiveling his head to catch it with his mouth. He misses, but grins at Isak anyway, “You know it’s rude to look without permission.”

He does. He just wishes he was a better person and didn’t look years ago to see Jonas’s _Hi I’m Eva_ stamped across his side. Jonas is one of the damn lucky ones to get a full on introduction in his mark. They aren’t necessarily rare, but it certainly helps build a better image to prepare yourself than something like “isn’t the weather nice today?” or “fuck you man, watch where you’re going”.

Or the worst: generic ones like “excuse me” or “hello” that you could hear a million times by a million different people and never know which one of them is _yours_.

Jonas peers down at Isak’s arm and snorts out a laugh, “Aww. Man, at least she’s considerate, right? Already trying to take care of you.”

Isak laughs right along with him and ignores the voice in the back of his mind saying _ABORT ABORT ABORT_.

“How uh- how common do you think it is for like, two guys to be soul mates? Like to have the marks and everything.”

Jonas throws his head back and laughs again, shoveling in a mountain of crackers, “Dude, I have no idea. But can you imagine? God, I think I’d be so freaked out if Eva” he gestures to his side, “Turns out to be like a guy or something. Fucking insane.”

“But like-” Isak struggles, taking a gulp of soda to tame the nerves in his stomach, “It happens right?”

Jonas mock shudders, “Don’t even talk about it bro. You’re freaking me out.”

Isak opens his mouth to respond, but takes another sip of soda instead. “You’re right. Fucking creepy.”

“Besides,” Jonas continues, “Have you ever thought that the marks were just- like a governmental capitalistic scheme to force us to settle down with one person for the rest of our lives? That’s a scary thought. Maybe I don’t even want a soul mate. Maybe I want to choose who I’m going to love. The soul marks are kind of bullshit.”

Isak perks up at the thought, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just…” he casts a sly glance at Jonas- whose eyes were following a pretty girl from their class walk across the street. Isak forces down the feeling of disappointment. “Maybe we should just go after who we want and fuck the marks.”

“Completely agree, bro.”

(Later, when Isak is home and in bed, he traces the black script on his arm again. He wants it to be Jonas; he wishes it could be Jonas.

He also wishes he could truly believe that this mark was meaningless.)

 

* * *

 

 

Two years later, they meet Eva.

It’s completely random. Isak actually meets her first- recognizes the quiet, withdrawn aura around her. The loneliness that he was only all too familiar with. So he goes up to her, smiles at her, puts on all of the charm he can muster up for this girl with the downturned lips and bright eyes.

“How’s it going?” He says and catches sight of Jonas rounding the building. He waves him over and turns his attention back to the girl.

She opens her mouth to respond and like always when he’s met someone knew and is waiting to hear their first words, he holds his breath. “I’m… good? Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

He lets out the breath and smiles wider, “Glad to hear it. You know, a pretty girl shouldn’t be walking around here all by herself. Luckily for you, I happen to know two very charming, very handsome men to keep you company.”

The girl laughs, “Yeah? Who would that be?”

“Jonas!” Isak says, just as his best friend claps him on the shoulder, “And I’m Isak.”

Eva’s eyes sparkle a bit as she laughs and directs her attention to Jonas. “Hi, I’m Eva.”

Something in Isak cracks _just a little bit_ and the world spins on its head.

That must be nothing in comparison because Jonas looks like he’s just had the world dropped out from under him. His mouth parts, but nothing escapes it. His eyes are wide and alarmed under bush-y eyebrows and already Isak wants to scream _No! Jonas, no! Remember? Fuck the marks._

Eva’s smile dims and Jonas chokes, taking a breath before stuttering out, “I, um, really like your hair.”

Eva’s own mouth drops open and-

And it’s like Isak is no longer there. Physically, metaphorically, he leaves _, he walks away,_ because fuck, why has God set him up for this kind of hurt?

What could possibly be worth this moment of pain?

  

* * *

 

 

Second year comes and Isak-

Isak has done things he is not very proud of.

He’s done things that he lies awake at night and dwells on for hours. He traces the mark on his arms and thinks, _you’d be so ashamed of me_ , and cries a little bit, retreats into himself a little bit, hates himself a little bit.

He didn’t mean for Eva and Jonas to end up the way they did. Or rather, he had very much meant for it to happen just as it did, but he regrets it. He wants to fix it because he can finally understand that Jonas was the pipe dream of a little lonely boy and Jonas doesn’t deserve to go down because Isak never learned to share.

Jonas isn’t his, Isak understands now, he doesn’t want Jonas to be his anymore.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Isak snaked his way into both Jonas and Eva’s confidence and _played_. That he continued the age-old lie in both of their ears that soul marks mean nothing and then manipulated the consequences.

Theoretically, he knows that they’re soul mates and no matter what, they’re destined to come back together again. But he ruined their _now_. And what if… Isak’s parents are soulmates and yet the can’t stand to be together. What if Isak just doomed them to a life of _that_?

So he retreats further into himself and medicates his shame and existing self-loathing with booze and drugs and girls. He lies awake at night and stares up at the ceiling.

He loses himself a bit, but he gains Magnus and Mahdi and keeps Jonas and he has a new place now with Eskild and Linn and life isn’t too bad really; not on the outside. He has friends and he has parties to go to and Isak is fine.

He’s fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Isak is playing video games in the bathroom when his world changes.

He’s sullen because Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus are fuck boys who left him here alone high and dry and he can’t bear to listen to Vilde go on about love and hugs and whatever other bullshit this night has in store.

The door opens and _shit_ , how immature must he look right now sitting in stall playing on his phone and, _damnit_ , he should have just left. So Isak mutes the game and sticks the phone in his pocket, ready to face the night.

When he steps out- he stops.

It’s like he can hear in his mind a record scratching. An abrupt sort of ripping sound that pushes down the chaos in his mind. And the silence after it is also super fucking eerie but also super fucking helpful because it narrows the world down to the only other occupant in the bathroom.

It’s a boy. It’s _the_ boy from the cafeteria. Or, fuck, is boy even the right term? Man? He looks slightly older, definitely much taller than Isak which is brilliant because Isak is already pretty fucking tall. He has a joint behind his ear that Isak can faintly smell and- okay he needs to move. Unglue himself from this position in front of a stall and staring at the boy like some sort of perv.

Isak rinses his hands, surreptitiously glancing in the mirror at the boy a couple of times (who glances right back once or twice). The boy moves on from the sink, grabbing one, two, three-

Okay, what the fuck?

He keeps grabbing and grabbing at the paper towels in the tin, digging his own hand up the machine’s entrance and pulling out every single sheet.

At least now Isak has a fucking excuse to stare.

When he dries his hands, the boy glances back at him. Something in his gaze shifting from blank to surprised, embarrassed, _playful_.

He gestures to the empty tin of paper towels, “Did you also need tissues?”

Isak blinks.

It takes him a second to even register the words out of this strange ( _beautiful_ ) boy’s mouth. The world- it’s gone still again and he must be underwater, because the ocean is _rushing rushing rushing_ through his head, sounding nothing like a mostly empty bathroom and everything like the crumbling of Isak’s entire life as he knows it.

He glances down, quickly enough so that it must have been near impossible to notice, just down to the inner most part of his bicep where five words are seared into his skin like a brand.

_Did you also need tissues?_

“Hi,” Isak whispers, then fuck no, Isak, that’s not-

The boy’s eyebrows shoot up, something deep within the hazel of his gaze sparking and he opens his mouth again to say more but Isak can’t-

He turns on his feet and walks away, boy in the bathroom ( _soulmatesoulmatesoulmate_ ) and Vilde’s hug-love-whatever group be damned. Once he’s around a corner of the half way, he’s jogging out into the crisp air and taking several gulps of it, ignoring the staccato of his heart that seems to think it’s now pumping for a new fucking purpose.

And.

_And._

That’s a boy.

A boy just said his words _, his words_ , and Isak had known that yes, that there was a very good possibility, but to see it- to see _him_? He’s panicking.

He’s panicking because he can’t. He didn’t with Jonas and can’t because he’s not like that.

He’s not.

Emma catches him on the way out.

And Emma (fuck what were her first words to him? He can’t even remember) she’s good. Sweet, a little bit pushy but maybe he can use that, _use her_ , and fuck that sounds shitty because he feels nothing but a vague sense of annoyance for her, but he really needs to leave and she wants to be partners?

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder that is too broad to be Emma’s.

“I thought we agreed to be partners?” The boy is here and _one hand is on Isak’s shoulder_ where it nearly scalds him in the best way. The other is fumbling with his joint, twisting and turning it in between his fingers. But the hand on his shoulder? Isak can feel his heart slowing down, reorienting itself and his mind follows.

The fog is lifting and Isak can breathe again.

“Yeah,” Isak shrugs apologetically to Emma, feeling the hand clench just a bit on his shoulder. “I agreed to be partners already with-”

“Even,” he cuts in smoothly.

Emma parts her lips to respond but Isak is quick to back away, bidding both of them a good night before _getting the fuck out of there_ before he combusts.

 

* * *

 

 

_Even_ , his mind whispers, _Even._

Isak turns his head just a bit on the pillow, arm out stretched wide and his threadbare sleep shirt riding up over his bicep.

The words are there, just as they always are, stark black against his pale skin. He lifts his other hand, bringing it just to the edge of the soul mark before taking it away.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

(He has a soulmate though, one who bears his simple little ‘hi’ in his handwriting. Not necessarily that Isak had seen it.)

He sits up.

Oh that would suck. If he’s gone through hours of mental torture only to find out tomorrow that Even’s words are something different, that Isak’s words were more commonplace than he would think.

Something inside of him clenches and he knows that that’s not right.

But _Even_ is right.

Isak turns over and tries to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he sees him is on the bus, or rather, Isak doesn’t really see him until there is a hand on his arm- very close to his mark and _no one is supposed to touch that other than_ -

“Halla.” Even says cheerfully and Isak relaxes.

“Halla.”

Isak looks away because his heart is pumping again and Even hasn’t looked away from him and his stupid eyebrows keep raising and falling like he has so many lively thoughts going on in his mind. Isak wants to know what’s going on in his mind.

“Do you-” Even stops and laughs, “Would you want to come over?”

Does he know? Does he fucking know that Isak’s words are burning on his arm? That is body is slowly tuning itself to Even’s frequencies? Does he fucking _know_?

Isak bites his lip and adjusts his snapback. “Why?”

“You look interesting. And I don’t have a lot of friends at school yet.”

“Do you have beer?”

Even smiles and Isak tentatively smiles back.

Friends. He could do that.

 

And it’s kind of weird, how things with Even just fall into place. Like he knows that they are _allegedly_ soulmates, but they just kind of click.

Isak has been there an hour and sure, he has weed clouding up his mind, but he’s relaxed and he’s happy and it’s been so long since he’s felt so good.

“Tell me movies then, since your taste in music clearly sucks.”

Isak laughs and shoots his foot out to nudge roughly at Even’s calf from where they are sitting by the window. “My taste in music is fucking ace. But movies huh…. Umm. I like- like Terminator? Or Transformers?”

Even scrunches his nose. “Huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean ‘huh’? Huh what?”

Even glances up and holds Isak’s eyes and Isak has to take another hit of the joint, “I don’t know- I just didn’t picture you liking those types of movies.”

(He doesn’t. But those are the movies Jonas always answers and Mahdi likes American Pie and Isak doesn’t exactly know why he lied to him, but he knows he wants to impress Even and right now he’s failing. He doesn’t want to fail.)

“I really like Legally Blonde,” he offers quietly, “And like- Mulan, but I’m not really a huge action movie person actually.”

Even rests his head back on the wall and smiles, “Mulan is awesome. Have you ever seen Moulin Rouge?”

And they’re off for another hour. Just fucking talking and laughing and okay yeah, Isak can get used to this. Get used to Even. In like _a friend_ way. Which is weird because he hasn’t hit it off this fast with a person in years.

“You’ve never broken a bone? I think that’s bullshit.” Even takes the final hit of the relighted joint and blows the smoke into gusts that tickle Isak’s nose, “What kid hasn’t broken anything?”

Bits of cold air flow through the window and Isak breathes it in with relish, shooting Even an outraged look. “Um, number one, fuck you very much, two I haven’t! Jonas- one of my friends- he’s broken his arm like seven times. But never me.”

Even coughs a bit, flicking the stub of the joint out the window, “Is Jonas your soulmate?”

Fucking record scratch again.

“What?” Isak widens his eyes, feeling a flush start at the backs of his ears, “Why would you say that?”

Even reaches a hand back to ruffle up the back of his hair, “You guys just seem super close is all.”

“Well we’re not,” And for the first time ever, Isak doesn’t feel even a hint of pain when he says it, “I mean we’re close, but not like that. Soulmates or whatever.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Even takes a breath, “Do you know who your soulmate it?”

And this is it, this is the moment where Isak can choose to either tell Even and try to figure himself out with him or maybe lie to Even and remain in his little box- unhappy but safe.

He doesn’t know which one to choose, but his soul mark is itching like a motherfucker.

And then the doorbell rings.

And Isak meets Sonja.

 

* * *

 

 

He deserves this.

He really does. He fucked with Eva and Jonas and he hasn’t called his mother in ages and he’s just awful to Eskild and he deserves this.

He deserves to sit on the corner of his bed and mope.

Even and Sonja met when they were sixteen and both said ‘hi’ to each other and that was that. Even’s mark is officially ‘Hi’ (which! Isak! Fucking! Said!) but so is Sonja’s and they’ve been together ever since. Isn’t that delightful, Isak? _Isn’t it_?

Isak hightailed it out of there quickly after introductions and ignored Even’s pinched expression following him from every corner of his apartment as he gathered his stuff.

Maybe it’s for the best though. Maybe Isak isn’t cut out to be just friends with Even and he’s certainly not cut out to be- whatever else with him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I, uh,” Even folds one hand over the counter’s edge, and the other hovering uneasily at his side, paint smearing just a bit on his face. Usually the epitome of cool, Even looks ruffled, “Sonja’s not my soulmate. At least I don’t think so.”

Well Isak could have fucking told him that.

But he just hums because he can’t deal with this right now. His head is hurting and his stomach is churning because he made out with Emma tonight and Even made out with Sonja and that _was not a cool thing to see._

“I thought she was at one point but, like, I know now she’s not.” He pauses, “But I can’t just leave her, you know?”

_Why are you telling me this?_

_Why are you doing this to me?_

And then Even’s fingers are at Isak’s sleeve tracing the edge of the material where it folds up, just barely covering the end of his soul mark.

Isak stiffens and shoots a warning look at Even who just plays with the material, body moving closer and closer every millisecond. His pointer finger slips under the material and Isak looks down, feeling heat and hurt and comfort and a soft warm something forming in the pit of his stomach, stemming directly from where Even’s finger was tracing the edges of his mark.

“Mine is over my heart,” Even cleared his throat, “Can I?”

“Even,” The shape of his name forms on Isaks’s lip, but for what he doesn’t know. Even stop? Even please? _He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know._

The material lifts up and they both watch it just barely reveal a question mark and-

There’s a thump in the living room. Even drops the sleeve as though it burned him.

Fuck Isak’s life.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re in the pool and Isak is laughing so loudly, the sound echoing off the pool walls, rebounding back at him as if to say ‘listen to this, _he_ makes us feel like this’

And Even is right there with him, floundering around in the pool in a white shirt that becomes see through and sticks just so wonderfully to his skin.

And Isak can see it.

It’s there, right on his heart, like Even said. Small and perfect and in his handwriting- a little ‘Hi’.

His hand reaches out on its own accord and Even grabs it out of thin air, water droplets racing down his face and neck, being flicked from his long eyelashes. He stares at Isak and wets his chlorine tinted lips and pulls Isak forward until the offending hand is resting firmly atop Even’s heart.

Atop the soul mark.

It feel warm, like a sear into his hands despite the cold, cold water and air and Isak has never felt warmer.

“It’s yours.” Even says, eyes flicking rapidly over Isak’s frozen face, “It is, isn’t it? I thought in the bathroom that day- you acted weird. And then you said ‘hi’ and I thought _maybe_ , but it is right? I need you to tell me so I understand why I feel this way.”

Isak leans forward and brushes his lips across Even’s.

He responds immediately, shuddering from deep within and then snaking both hands up to Isak’s face, brushing back the dripping stands of hair and pushing him harder and harder, deeper and deeper into the water, into them, and Isak can’t breathe, but also he’s never felt so free.

And his hand is still covering Even’s heart and one of Even’s slides up to rip the sopping fabric away from his bicep, curling around the mark without checking for himself what the words say.

It doesn’t matter.

Even knows.

Isak loses himself in Even for approximately ten more seconds because that’s when he notices they have an audience.

They run and laugh and bike home and enter Isak’s apartment giggling and dripping wet.

So they warm each other up.

 

 “You know,” Isak whispers nudging Even’s collarbone with his nose, much later that next morning, when the sun has already made its descent high into the sky. “There is probably an Even and an Isak that is lying in the exact same way, in the exact same place, only- you know, different curtain colors or something.”

The corners of Even’s mouth lift up and a palm runs up and down Isak’s back, “So like white curtains then?”

Isak rolls his eyes, but rests his forehead down in the space between Even’s neck and chest, “I don’t know. Maybe one where soulmate marks don’t exist and you have to just- have faith that you’ve found the right person, but never know.”

“Hmm,” Even’s grip grows tighter around Isak and he loves- loves the feeling it conjures up, “We’d find each other anyway.”

Isak laughs, “Would we?”

“Yeah. I know we would.”

There a pair of lips brushing against the crown of Isak’s head and wow, that feels so good. But he also feels sleepy now. “How do you know?”

“Because I know me. And in any universe, a me belongs with a you.”

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t deserve this.

_He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t._

Because God- his heart is aching and breaking and his stomach is full of acid and Even is-

Even’s gone. With Sonja- not with him. And Isak doesn’t even understand what happened? They were _fine_ \- they were fucking fine and now they’re not? They were just in the locker room and Even said his parents would love him and Even’s hand started consistently making a home on Isak’s bicep over _his fucking mark_ and

_What went wrong?_

Oh God, is this what his mother felt like the day dad walked out? Did she even notice under the weight of everything else?

Is this God punishing him for having a boy for a soulmate? To give him an abomination love and then so cruelly yank it away?

Isak sobs harder, alone on the sidewalk, on his knees, playing back every moment he and Even had shared and searching for _what went wrong._

And he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t _understand._

“I can’t breathe,” he gasps to himself, putting a hand over his chest and trying to suck lungfuls of air in, “I don’t-”

He wants Even.

He wants him despite how much it hurt seeing him with Sonja.

But he can’t have him and-

 

Isak uses all of his 10% to grieve what could have been a good thing and when he comes back, he walks straight faced, straight backed, ignoring the immediate burning sensation in his arm when he walks past Emma and then Even.

He walks straight on through.

The day consists of keeping his head down, his ears open, and away from all of his friends. It’s not their fault- not Mahdi’s that he pushed him or Jonas that he screamed at him. But Isak can’t be around them right now, pretend that he’s all good and happy and ready to bang the next chick that walks through the door. Not today. Maybe not ever again.

But then he can’t sleep and the fucking school nurse babbles to him about an island? Whatever the fuck she meant there and it’s time. It’s time.

So he confronts Jonas.

“I met my soul mate,” he says, biting his lip and adjusting the beanie over his curls.

Jonas looks up and Isak can’t tell if he looks surprised or not, “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Well I know it’s not me.” And fuck, Jonas is studying his expression carefully and Isak knows that Jonas at least suspects.

“No,” Isak says and feels the corners of his mouth tilt up, “No. No. No. Definitely not.”

Jonas shrugs and takes another bite, “Then who is he?”

Isak pauses, “How did you know?”

Jonas sets his fork down and thwacks the back of Isak’s head, “Why are you asking stupid fucking questions? Is it that guy- with the hair? What’s his name again?”

“Even.” Isak doesn’t know whether saying his name soothes or burns him.

“Even.” Jonas repeats, “What happened?”

“I saw him making out with his ex-girlfriend.”

Jonas snorts and puts the kabob down on the bench, “Yeah I know how that is, man. Sucks.”

Isak feels a stab in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I think you know.”

Jonas says nothing for a long time and instead chooses to stare at the ground. Finally, he sighs and Isak can see it, as much as he wishes not to. The pain there that Isak caused that he never meant to cause no matter how much he thought he loved Jonas

“Eva will be Eva. I’ll be me, and you’ll be you. Soulmates aren’t exactly a guarantee of a perfect relationship, are they? You’ve got to choose to be together, Isak. Both of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even is here.

He’s here and holy fuck, so are the boys and that is _not_ a can of worms he plans on cracking open any time soon.

“Out!” he snaps at them as good naturedly as he can, “Out, out, out!”

“Shoes!” He hears Magnus wail, but he can’t focus on that because Even is here and they’re going to talk. Okay, he can do this.

And then the door is open and Even is right there and his arm burns and Even’s hand is splayed over his heart.

“ _Halla_.” They both say and that’s about the extent of their talking for a long while.

Because after that, it was crashing lips and searching tongues and hands that entwined together far tighter than Isak had ever experienced. It was being thrown out into the wilderness and coming home all at once. It was Even’s hand slinking up to Isak’s arm and never letting go, using his mouth to make Isak cry, plead, _forgive_.

And Isak tries, he let his eyes slide shut and fingers run through Even’s hair and over Even’s heart because this could still be his. _It could still be his._

Later, when they’re both settled under the sheets and Even is drawing a finger over the swirls of his own handwriting on Isak’s arm, Isak swallows, “You can’t do that again.”

And the hand splays out, palm resting flat on his bicep, covering the words completely.

“No,” Even agreed quietly, closing his eyes and breathing deep into Isak’s hair, “I won’t. Isak you have to understand-“

“No.” He pulls his head up to meet Even’s eyes directly, “I don’t want to talk about it right now. In the morning. But I can’t fall asleep right here if you tell me it’ll happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“Good.” He settles back down and closes his eyes, content to concentrate on the sound of Even’s heart beating under him.

 

* * *

 

 

_It’s good It’s good It’s good._

It’s waking up in the morning to stupid pop songs and dancing in the kitchen and having Eskild and Noora bang on the walls at night. It’s waking up next to Even and it’s finding paper notes in his locker at lunch. It’s sweet texts, dirty texts, dirty showers that has never made Isak feel so clean.

It’s so good that Isak comes out to his friends. And they understand. How could’ve ever think that they wouldn’t? Who even was the terrified boy that slowly bricked himself into the closet? Who was he? They’re thrilled for him and Isak is thrilled and they’ve met Even and they love Even and it’s amazing.

 

“Were you ever disappointed in your word being ‘Hi’?” Isak asks one day, when they both have no shirts on but are too lazy to go further than that. Not that they need to- being like _this_ with Even? Without a care in the world with him? There is nothing better than it. “I didn’t mean to say it. I always imagine my words being something stupid and long and about like- weed or rap music or something.”

Even snorts and tries for a pitch higher than his usual voice. “’Uh- excuse me, can I like borrow your bong?’”

“I would never say that,” Isak sniffs, “I am a classy teenage boy and I make my own bongs out of water bottles.”

And Even’s lips are moving silently. Something like _oh my god_ and Isak can’t help but roll over a bit, hooking his legs around Even’s hips and settling his weight down on his groin. Even grunts, but slides one hand up to grip at Isak’s waist and another up to his arm to hold over his mark.

“I wasn’t disappointed in it being hi,” he says, “Or like- I think I weirdly was when Sonja first said it to me. I knew right then that something was off. It definitely made it a bit harder to find you. But I did, didn’t I? How can I regret that?”

He’s so good with words. Fuck he should be a poet or a writer rather than a fucking artist.

“You are so-” he shakes his head, “You’re so perfect. I hate you.”

The corner’s of Even’s lips curl up. “No you don’t.”

It’s so good.

 

* * *

 

 

And then it’s not again and at this point, Isak just wants to laugh. A hollow broken laugh that echoes throughout his very soul.

It was so good. Even bought a fucking hotel room for them. They spent the afternoon together and together and Even traced Isak’s fucking mark with his tongue-

Fuck. How can something so good turn so quickly to shit?

He has no more tears to waste, no more sobs to rip through his chest. It’s this deep feeling of numbness that spreads over every inch of him and he’s suddenly home without knowing how he’s gotten there. Eskild is lying next to him, stroking his hair, offering comfort when there is none to be had. Isak clutches at his mark like it’s his lifeline and he wonders if Even is as well.

“What’s your soul mark?” he whispers hoarsely to Eskild. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Eskild stops petting his hair for a second, “It’s on my ankle. _‘Do you come here often_?’”

Isak snorts out a laugh, an awful burning heat behind his eyes, “No its not.”

There’s a dramatic sigh and then Eskild is flicking Isak’s cheeks, “Would I lie to you, sweet baby Isak?”

“I don’t know.” Isak sniffles and fuck his nose hurts (head hurts, heart hurts) “Is that why you’re always at the gay club?”

“Maybe,” Eskild chuckles lowly, “I lived with Noora who found her soulmate when she was 16, you did at 17. My parents when they were 9. I’m 24, Isak, and I know that’s young, but I’m terrified that I’m going to spend half of my life alone.”

“Maybe being alone is better. Maybe soul marks are bullshit.”

The hand stars brushing his curls back again, “You’re being ridiculous. You and Even are going to be okay and then you’re going to regret ever thinking that.”

Isak agrees, but he doesn’t want to say it out loud, so he just lulls himself into the first tendrils of sleep; imagining that the fingers in his hair were Even’s.

 

Christmas mass comes and Isak is tired. He’s drained and he’s surly and if it weren’t for seeing his mom (he’s fucking trying damnit, because he gets it now), he’d be at home in bed or drunk at Jonas’s. But he’s not. He’s here and his mom looks really good actually and Isak is ready to try his hand at being normal again.

Then his phone buzzes and his arm tingles and it’s all Isak can do not to start vibrating when he reads through Even’s text.

It’s as though he’s reading through a fog. Even talking about when they first met in the bathroom, feeling his chest buzz and then in front of the bench with Emma and 21:21 and I love you and-

Isak puts the phone down on his thigh and breathes for the first time in ages. Even loves him, he _does_ , and they might not be right now, but they will be okay again. Isak knows it. He knows it and when mass is done, he’s going to go over to Even’s and he’s going to crawl in bed with him and lay his head down on top of Even’s chest and they are going to be good.

So Isak relaxes into the pews, valiantly hums along to O Holy Night and allows his eyes to flit about the room, taking in the sight of his parents standing side by side again, his mother upright, calm and seemingly happy.

And the church is decorated really nicely. All flowers and candles and lights atop the alter and-

Isak blinks and, _huh_ , he thinks of Romeo + Juliet. Which is kind of fucking morbid considering the circumstance.

Something inside of him clenches up and his bicep is itching. Is that fucking normal? The way it just starts to burn in the not at all fun way and-

His eyes fit down to the phone resting on his thigh.

_Even_.

He doesn’t know how he knows, but something isn’t right. Something in him is screaming for Even and has to leave right now.

So he does and he’s running through the streets? He’s slipping on ice and having car horns blare at him and pedestrians braving the cold weather shouting at him but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about them. He cares about Even and that is all that fucking matters.

And then he’s there in the school yard but he’s alone and his arm is still itching. But then the doors open and Even walks out, head down, eyes on the floor.

Until he sees Isak.

Then he stops, gawks, breathes and they meet in the middle.

Then there is silence and there is breathing together and there is a certain strength that fills Isak. For so long, he thinks he’s been weak. He’s been scared of his family and scared of his friends and scared of himself. But he can’t do that anymore because Even needs him right now to be _strong_.

“You are not alone.” Isak whispers and slides off his rain coat.

(And fuck, it’s freezing and _is that rain,_ how clichéd.)

Even stares at him, eyebrows furrowing until Isak grabs his hand, sliding thin and long fingers up the length of his sleeve until Isak can feel the fire again against his skin, turned back into a good heat, and Even’s hands curl around him and his forehead drops to the dip between Isak’s neck and collarbone.

_And they breathe, they breathe, they breathe._

* * *

 

 

This Even is silent and small and sleeps a lot. He curls up into a ball and tosses and turns at night, but always quiets when Isak rests his palm on his chest. It’s odd really because the Even that he knows is so loud and bright and full of life and exhilaration.

This Even flinches whenever a door shuts too loudly.

Even’s voice is raspy one night, when they are curled into bed together, when the time for talking has technically long since passed, “You can say it, you know.”

Isak turns on his pillow, close enough to where is nose practically brushes up against Even’s cheek. “Say what?”

“That you want out. That you didn’t sign up for this when you got a soulmate.” Even blinks and Isak is aghast, but can’t quite put the feeling into words. Even’s jaw clenches, “It’s okay, I understand.”

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“What?”

“Nei, nei, nei.” he stopped, sitting up abruptly in bed. “ _Nei._ Why would you even say that? There is no one else for me. It’s written on our fucking skin. And even if it wasn’t, I’d still be here, Even. _I’d still be here._ We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I know that no matter what does, I’ll still be here.”

There’s a choked sound from behind him and Isak turns just fast enough to brace himself before Even wraps two strong arms around his waist and pulls, sending Isak back onto his back and then curled around Even like a teddy bear.

“Okay,” Even murmurs and his voice is reverent; like a prayer.

“Okay. Yes, good.” Isak lets his eyes slip shut and this time when fingers card through his curls, it’s the real deal.

 

* * *

 

 

Even gets better slowly and then one morning, he wakes up and finds that he doesn’t feel unhappy anymore. He feels better, he says, _normal_.

“Ayyye.” Isak responds with a kiss on the cheek and tries to maneuver his way around his giant oaf of a boyfriend. “I love to see you smiling again.”

“Oh, that was cheesy,” Even swats at Isak’s butt, a damp kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder and a head of lettuce in his free hand.

“’ _Oh, that was cheesy’_ ,” Isak mimics, dodging another attempted swat with a laugh, “Jesus you’re going to give my ass a complex.”

“I can give it something, alright.”

“WHOA. Okay children,” And there is Eskild flying through the room, sunglasses perched firmly on top of his head and bright red leather jacket on display, “There are young virginal ears coming your way.”

“Virgin, my ass.” Isak mutters and Eskild sends him a sultry grin and a wink, “What are you all dressed up for?”

“Oh this little ol’ thing?” Eskild shimmies. “Noora wants me to meet her at an art gallery opening thing. Which- yuck.” He leans into Even and mock whispers. “Honey, I’m gay, but not that gay.”

“Just the right amount of gay.” Even mutter wryly, but Eskild preens.

_“Exactly.”_

Isak wants to say he agrees, that Eskild is perfect he way he is, but he thinks that would be laying it on a little thick. Not that he doesn’t mean it; Eskild is perfect because Eskild is so much more real than Isak could ever hope to be. Eskild is the kind of real to himself that Isak is still trying to reach for every day, even if it manifests itself differently.

But obviously, he can’t say that, so he settles with a, “I think today’s going to be a good day for you, Eskild. I really do.”

A flicker of surprise over his face and then Isak is nearly toppled over but 6’2 inches of roommate. “I knew that somewhere down in your stinky boy body, there was a heart.”

“I am not,” he wrestles out of Eskild’s grip and _fuck_ , he was strong for a- Isak stops and corrects himself. He was strong. That was it. No qualifier. “Stinky.”

“Ehhhhh.” Even snickers and chops the wedge of lettuce into salad size portions.

Isak is scandalized and Isak is beaming.

Still, one must keep up appearances, “You’re the worst and I don’t like you at all.”

“Yikes.”

Isak creeps up to Even and snakes his arms around his waist, and just knows that Even is rolling his eyes. No matter, he takes one hand and slides it up, scratching over a nipple (which earns him an unamused yelp) and then rests his palm flat over Even’s heart.

Eskild sighs loudly and Isak disentangles himself. “When’s lunch ready? I’m starving.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So you have a soulmate.”

Eva’s eyes are bright again, full of mirth and trouble and Isak has missed them so much. There was a time when Eva was almost his best friend and he just- he regrets so much of the time that they lost. But Eva knows that, understands it, and she’s forgiven him for it.

(Thank God she’s a better person than he is. If it had been her in between him and Even-)

“I do have a soulmate.”

Eva nudges him and continues to paint her odd, penis shaped ornament. It’s bright orange and Isak wants to make a Donald Trump joke, but he grosses himself out a bit and reigns it in.

“Does he make you happy?” Eva paints another line, every so often glancing around the room and settling on various partygoers. “Is he good for you?”

The Christmas party is a success, thank god. Vilde (who’s had one hand up his ass since he agreed to host the damn thing) is beaming brighter than the entire Christmas tree and Magnus is following her around like a little lost puppy. It’s kind of sad, because Isak knows he really likes her, just like he knows that their words don’t match.

The room is decorated; atmosphere cheerful and lowkey and whoever made the snacks? Isak could marry them.

So he’s feeling pretty content with himself. Content enough to allow a grin to take over his face when he truly thinks about Eva’s question. “Yeah, Eva. I’ve never been happy like this. Shallow happy, sure. Complacent, absolutely. But now I’m just- I don’t know how to describe it. And he just makes me better, I think.”

Eva smiles, but her eyes are downturned, just low enough for Isak to sense the underlying sadness, “What about Jonas? Is he good for you?”

“No,” she answers quietly, but sincere. “I think in maybe a couple of years, he could be. But I think that my only real soulmate at this point is myself. And I’m okay with that.”

Isak leaned forward and pecked the side of her head, feeling innumerably sad, but also unbearably proud of Eva.

She laughs and nudges him back, “He’s staring right at you, you know.”

“I know,” Isak grins because he does know. His arm is tingling just a little bit and even if it wasn’t, he can feel he heat pouring down his back. “But I think I’m going to let him sweat it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Eva jabs her penis ornament at Isak, who narrowly avoids it hitting his cheek and leaving a trail of orange.

“And you’re so fucking gross, Jesus Christ.”

Isak gives in and twists backwards. Even is standing by the doorway, keeping Eskild company as he strings mistletoe up. When he notices that he finally has Isak’s attention, he grins wider, looking back to the mistletoe with a proud ‘ _isn’t this a great idea, Isak_ ’ look.

God Isak loves him.

“You two are sickening.” Eva shoos him, “I think he’s hitting on you; mistletoe style. You should cash in while you still can.”

“Ooo is that a threat?” But his eyes don’t quite leave Even’s lean form. “You going to steal him away from me?”

“Like that’s possible.” He stamps down a smile and focuses back on Eva, who’s giving him an expectant stare. “Literally go get your man.”

God the balls on this woman.

A cheeky smile, “I think I will.”

And he’s up, crossing the room in a few short steps and Even is opening his mouth (probably to greet him) but-

Isak skims a hand up the back of Even’s head, pulling him down to Isak’s level so that he can kiss him with all of passion and feeling and thankfulness Isak can conjure up. He kisses him because he loves him and while he knows that he doesn’t need the markings on his skin to prove that, they are the greatest fucking gift ever granted to him.

Well, except for maybe Even himself.

He’s probably the greatest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are at the end! Did you make it this far? I hope you did and you liked it!
> 
> If you did, this was a big work and I am a creature of validation and I would so, so appreciate if you would leave me a little comment telling me what you thought <3
> 
> And I'm still considering whether or not I want it to become part of a series - so maybe?
> 
> And come party with me over on Tumblr. I write daily drabbles with Isak and Even tht I haven't yet posted to Tumblr! 
> 
> It's http://shadeandadidas.tumblr.com/ .


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